


After all of this time, do you think there's still need

by Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/Kavi%20Leighanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d never let themselves thing that far ahead, but now that he has her, real and here, it’s too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Handwaving the Garcia stuff for bittersweet heartbreaking reasons and because I’m firmly pretending that’s not a thing DON’T HURT MY BABY ASSHOLES.

London, even after a few years, is a little lonely. She has friends, she has colleagues, but she can’t honestly say it’s the same. Anticipated, maybe, but not the same.

It’s not like it had wholly been her choice to leave.

Ultimately, she knows it kind of was. She could have turned down Easter’s offer. She could have stayed in the US, in Washington, but she also knows she couldn’t. Even now there’s a tug at her heart, too much wrapped up here despite three years of separation.

So when JJ had reached out, invited her for the holidays, well, Emily had said yes. She had, however, been adamant about staying at her mother’s, not because she and her mother are the best of friends – though that too is a relationship that has blossomed in interesting ways now that Emily is an ocean away – but because a sobbing infant at 2am is not what Emily wants this holiday season. JJ, bless, had laughed in the way parents do when they sympathize and understand without taking offense.

“Colic’s a bitch,” she’d agreed vehemently, and it had been Emily’s turn to laugh.

Though of course, the earliest she could get out of London had been the same day as the choral concert she’d heard Penelope wax poetic about for weeks over Skype and email. Dulles is chaos, as it tends to be this time of year, and she’s more than a little harried when she makes it to her mother’s estate. It’s a rush to get ready, to shower the feeling of plane off of her, slide into her warmest, fuzziest sweater and bundle back up again. She cabs it into the city despite the astronomical price because she’s not really up for tackling the insanity of the Metro during the holidays. It’s her fault anyway, for staying so far out when she could have afforded a hotel.

Or stayed with someone else.

She’s not thinking about that.

She’s winded when she gets there despite the cab, giddy and late but the team is still milling about, laughing as the conductor taps his baton on the stand.

“Emily!”

God, Jack is getting big. She feels like she missed so much, even with Skype and the marvel of modern technology. “Hey buddy.”

He hugs her so tight and she returns it, stumbles a little when Henry bowls into both of them

“Aunty Em!”

Laughter rises up again and it feels good, it feels warm. It feels like home.

She’s breathless with the feeling, the way her heart swells in her chest. It comes out in the kisses she peppers over Jack’s face, then Henry’s, their still-childish giggles ringing out despite the first gentle cords of the choir. Finally, she releases them and pushes herself back up, gets an arm around Spencer’s neck on one side and Derek’s waist on the other.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Everything is just joyful. Their faces are lit up in the dim sparkle of the Christmas lights, grateful and wonderful and tears prick her eyes. Spencer wraps his arms around her and hugs, hard, Derek pressing a kiss to her head.

“God, it’s so good to see you,” JJ manages, baby strapped to her chest and holding Will’s hand. “It’s been too long.”

She hasn’t made it out in a year because of scheduling conflicts and work and she’s feeling it now, the separation of thousands of miles. It hurts in ways she didn’t expect it to. She grips Spencer back, opens her arm when Penelope comes in. She’s introduced to Tara and Joy, quick perfunctory things, but she doesn’t mind.

Eventually, it’s her and Hotch, Jack at his side. The team moves off, a separation that feels so natural. Her stomach is filled with a strange bittersweetness as she reaches out, fists her hand in his jacket. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

There’s a new ease to the way he moves, the way he so naturally pulls her into a hug. She feels Jack bury his face between them and blinks back tears as she squeezes her arms around his neck. There’s no doubt this had been the hardest part, turning away from Hotch and Jack. But Hotch had had Beth and all Emily had had were nightmares and memories that refused to fade so long as she was in the city; so long as she was in the country.

They haven’t faded completely either, of course, but they’re better when she’s in London.

There are less nights she sleeps with a gun under her pillow anyway.

“How are you?” he asks, voice rumbling in her ear. He still hasn't let her go and she’s not ready to move away herself. Before Beth, before Doyle, they’d had… something. It wasn’t A Thing, and it wasn’t Nothing but it never changed either. Neither of them were quite willing to take that leap, to put friendship on the line. It had seemed like a premonition to her, after Doyle had shown up. She tries not to think about what could have happened, if she’d let Hotch come to mean more to her than anyone else.

“Good,” she says, squeezes once more. “I’m good.”

“You look good.”

She grins through the breathlessness, the way such a simple, flippant phrase from him still feels like she’s been slammed against the mats. It shouldn’t this far out. It’s been years since it was even a possibility. “You too. You look relaxed.”

“I started taking vitamins.”

She barks out a laugh, lets herself give in and link their arms. It was their habit out like this, the safety of the team and the public. Away from the job. She works very hard to banish the thought that now she’s just away.

Hotch pulls her right against his side, into him, and she huffs as she gives him a playful sort of glare. He’s not grinning back. Smiling, yes, but it’s soft and real. The smile she always called hers.

“I mean it. You look good.”

It takes a lot of self-control to keep from swallowing awkwardly and reflexively. She ducks her head instead.

“I’m glad you came.”

She smiles up at him, has to, no matter the butterflies in her stomach and the painful twist in her chest. “I’m glad I did too.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s heady; the sound of carols, the joy of being here, the excitement of her family, the warmth of Hotch over her shoulder, and Jack against her front. There’s a normalcy, a comfort, as he wraps her arms over Jack’s shoulders, a separation. She’s no longer an agent here, doesn’t have to worry about how anything looks, how close she stands, and she lets herself revel in it a bit. Her heart is pounding, her grin all but permanent.

As the last chords of O Holy Night fade away, she feels Hotch lean over her shoulder. “Coffee?”

It’s a dangerous offer, feeling like she does. The draw is still there between them, the pull that they’d fought so hard against, buoyed by the lack of closure. She is also painfully and historically incapable of saying ‘no’, especially when she has Jack’s eager face in her peripheral vision and Hotch’s palm warm even through her pea coat.

It’s how she finds herself settled in the passenger’s seat of Hotch’s car, head back, eyes closed as she hums along to the quiet songs on the radio. She laughs, soft and easy when Jack starts to chime in. She can’t stop herself from opening her eyes to glance over at Hotch. It feels domestic and she has to remind herself that they really aren’t parents, sharing a laugh over the ridiculousness of their child.

The feeling doesn’t let up as they head up to the apartment, laughing and light and easy. She lets him take her coat, tucks her shoes under the table that holds the key bowl because old habits die hard. She lets Jack show her their tree and laughs. It’s a fake tree, she knows, because she’d been here the year they’d discovered Jack was allergic. The white ball she’d given them the Christmas Haley had been killed glints from it’s place of prominence, centered in the tree, the glittered ‘hope’ shimmering against the fairy lights.

Jack updates her on school, on the girl he swears he’s not crushing on, even if Emily knows better. Hotch offers her a mug when he finally joins them, and settles close. She smiles her thanks, a grin that widens to a beam when she takes her first sip and discovers he remembers her switch to tea.

“I never did switch back,” she murmurs when Jack scampers away to grab an arg project she hadn’t had the heart to remind him she’d seen on Skype two weeks ago.

“You always have tea on Skype,” he murmurs back. “Tea bag still in.”

She groans, lets her head drop back against the couch. “It’s always too strong.”

He laughs and the warmth in her stomach tingles through her, concentrates where his arm is pressed up against hers. It’s easy and relaxed and she leans his head on his shoulder like she’s done so many times before. They let Jack carry the conversation until Hotch deems it bedtime. Jack whines, of course, and that feels normal too. She lets their voices lull her into a little bit of a doze as the excitement and the flight catch up to her.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

There’s a low chuckle and her eyes flutter open. She lets him take her mug from her lap and lax hands. “You want to stay?” he asks, “I have sweats you can borrow.”

“Yeah,” she says. She’s done it a hundred times before. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.”

She stumbles a little as she stands, pauses to stretch her arms up above her head. She hears his harsh intake of breath. Her eyes fly open and she drops her arms out of reflex. His face is – she doesn’t know how to explain it. She knows it keeps her rooted to the spot as he approaches, slowly giving her time to move away. Still, his hand is feather light as it slips around her waist, rests just above the curve of her hip.

“Emily.”

Her eyelids flutter. Her hand comes up to clench reflexively in his sweater. He squeezes her hip and her eyes fly open.

“Emily,” he says again, this time with a thread of nerves, of hesitation.

Her heart thumps. “Nothing’s changed,” she whispers, leaning her had against his chest. “Nothing’s… I’m still not here. I’m still not coming back.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

She breathes out. She knows that. He’s never asked that of her; he never will.

“But, I can’t-“

She lets out a noise and she knows it sounds raw. “We agreed it wasn’t fair.”

“When you were recovering. When I was with Beth.”

“And now there’s thousands of miles and an ocean between us,” she says, raising her head. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed. That’s the point.”

“Hotch.”

“It still feels-“

“Of course it does,” she cuts him off, irritated, desperate. “It always will.”

“That’s what’s not fair.”

So she kisses him, of course she does. It feels amazing, it feels glorious, it feels right. His arms wrap around her, pull until there isn’t a place they’re not pressed together.

“I’ve thought about it,” he says when they break away, both of them breathing roughly. “I’ve thought about it a lot. All of the times we’ve Skyped and texted, how it feels to not see you every day.”

“You wouldn’t now.”

“But we’d have this.”

That certainly doesn’t make her feel much better. She tucks her head beneath his chin so she doesn’t have to look at him. It feels simultaneously like everything she’s wanted for so long and an entirely different level of frustration, of complication.

“Emily. I want to try. We deserve that.”

They deserve to have their head examines.

“Why now?”

“Because you’re here,” his voice rumbles in her ear, hands moving restlessly over her back. “You’re here and you’re real and you’re not my agent. I can’t not touch you anymore. I can’t pretend that I’m okay with… with not having you.”

Her hands clench harder; she curls tighter. “You’re the worst.”

His hands go still. “That- That doesn’t sound like ‘no’.”

She sighs, tilts her head to press her mouth feather light against his jaw. “It’s not a ‘yes’ either.”

She still lets him kiss her again, still curls up against him in his bed, in his sweats and thinks maybe she’ll let him try and convince her.

Maybe she’ll let herself be convinced.


End file.
